A sad day for film.

I’m, like, about to cry. Maybe it’s the 15th consecutive day of rain (really, God?), maybe its the fact that its not Friday, and I woke up thinking it was – but I just sent someone to Duane Reade to get a couple of rolls of 35mm film developed and he came back empty handed. Apparently, they no longer accept 35mm film.

CRY!

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Duane Reade, its comparable to CVS, or Rite Aid – with their own little photo section, etc. They’re all over New York. I don’t know what the deal is with Duane Reade, and why they have the market cornered, but I’m going to have to look that one up*. There are ‘Duane’ and ‘Reade’ streets as well. Who are these people?! Anyway, I digress…

Granted, this development (or lack thereof – zing!) may not stir the, um, older generations (Hi Mom!) – because they remember sitting for photographs (sorry Mom!), and have lived through the progression of cameras/photography/blah, blah, blah - but this disturbs me! I remember my first camera (it was pink), and my first roll of film (pictures of people without heads). I remember the pure excitement and anticipation of picking up the developed pictures and ripping through them like a little kid on Christmas. What was inside? What have I managed to capture?! And then, eventually, I remember having to stop for a moment to think, “I wonder if the photo developer saw this one. And if so – did he make copies?!”

There was no instant gratification. No erasing. No amount of endless storage. You had 24 or 36 pictures – sometimes, you were blessed with one or two more – which were always the best ones. And when someone wanted a copy of your pictures, you got doubles. And if two people wanted copies of your pictures, they fought over the double (Hi Ris, Rob!).

Are those days really gone? Are photo shops with the creepy pock-faced clerk who has his room wallpapered in other people’s pictures really going extinct? How can that be?

And maybe I’m a little too sensitive – being married to a photographer and all – but I must say that this marks the end of a HUGE era. I mean, if you think about it, digital pictures are pictures, sure. But if one never makes prints of them, they live in one’s computer, on one’s phone, Facebook, online photo albums…the pictures never actually live.

And they don’t have to. They can stay on the Internet forever - and ever. And ever. And that's a subject for another time...

But film – film, you have to develop. You’ve got to give it a little love. You’ve got to want those pictures bad enough to bring them in to get developed. You’ve got to deal with the creepy clerk. You’ve got to wait (sometimes DAYS!) and then come back to pick them up. In the meantime, someone has to go through a lot of trouble to process your film into negatives, and your negatives into prints. And unless someone does that, your picture never lives.

In this age of inista-everything, I find a strange comfort in the fact that if I so desire, I can dust off my 35mm camera, get the 5 year-old film out of my refrigerator, and take actual pictures. And I know that if I were to do so, I could go pick them up, and shamelessly sit in the driver's seat of my car, ripping into them like some kind of junkie - to get my fix of the good ones. Then, if they were worth sharing, I can send them - with a letter - on paper - that I wrote with a pen - to whomever I wanted to share my double with. I would then mail them - the old fashioned way (that is, if I had an envelope, stamp, or an actual mailbox). And who knows - maybe I'd even make an album to show my kids one day. Or not.

But that's irrelevant. Its irrelevant now, because all signs are pointing to the fact that that's quickly becoming a non-option. At this point, I have no idea where I would go to get these rolls of film developed. I just sent someone to the closest photo shop I know of, and again, they came back empty-handed...the store has gone out of business.

Obviously, there are places that still accept 35mm film, and all hope is not lost. But, you know, someday, it will be. I mean, they stopped making Poloriod cameras - just stopped. And if you have one (like me!) you're out of luck, because they stopped making the film, too. If it happened to the Poloriod, it can happen to my little pink camera and all of its family and friends.

I guess this bums me out so much because I got a digital camera in 2004. I never go anywhere without it and have thousands of archived pictures. I've made maybe one, actual album with crappy prints I ordered from Kodak.com. The reality of it is - most of these pictures will never have the chance to live. Unless I fall into millions of dollars to get good prints made (and that's not you, either, Snapfish) and a warehouse to house my photo album collection, I will never get them printed. Half of them were lost anyway in the Computer Crash of '08 (which nearly led to the Marriage Crash of '08 - oops!). Devastating.

Long story short, I'm kinda sad. Maybe its the rain, maybe its because its not Friday or maybe its because I feel like the cameras of my youth are a dying breed. In any case, I'm going to go home, dig out my 35mm that has sand stuck in its gears, and I'm going to take a picture using the film that has been in there since 2004. I'm going to find a place that will develop it, and I'm going to re-live the film developing experience for what will probably be the last time. And then I'm going to scan it and post it -- so you can see how awesome a little love is.



*Update, courtesy of Mr. New York and his infinite, useless knowledge:

Duane Reade takes its name from the Company's first successful full-service drugstore, which opened in 1960 on Broadway between Duane and Reade Streets in Manhattan. Since then, Duane Reade has grown to become the most recognized drugstore chain in metropolitan New York. Today, the Company operates over 253 stores in commercial and residential neighborhoods throughout New York.